


Howl in the Night

by istillcantforgetyou



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Human-Werewolf Interactions, M/M, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-15 17:16:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19300210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/istillcantforgetyou/pseuds/istillcantforgetyou
Summary: Will Graham finds an injured wolf in his shed.





	Howl in the Night

**Author's Note:**

> This project was something that I strived to make for the ABO Big Bang. It's gone through some rewrites, and hopefully they worked out alright!  
> Ghostgurlgamer (on tumblr) worked with me as my partner for the Bang, and she created a great podfic, which you can use to follow up your reading with here:  
> https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/639822687&color=%235c5c64&auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false&show_teaser=true

[HIN Podfic Link](https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/639822687&color=%235c5c64&auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false&show_teaser=true)

 

            With the yapping of his dogs following behind him, Will Graham opened the door to his shed one early morning to the sight of a large, immobile animal in the middle of his shed.

            The wolf lay collapsed on the ground, blood on its hind legs and on his paws. The wolf’s silver and brown fur shone brightly as the morning light hit it.

            Will cautiously stepped forward, and, a mere two seconds later, spotted the cause of the blood that pooled on the wooden floor. He paused in his footsteps and took a deep breath.

            A bullet hole—where tendons had ripped and fur had started to fall—marred the wolf’s right hind leg. From where he was, Will could barely hear the wolf’s breathing—slow, weak, and almost nonexistent.

            With the same heart that had greeted his now seven dogs, Will didn’t hesitate to run back to his house for supplies.

 

X

 

            After a morning of stitching and patching back together, Will returned to the shed one last time to bring back one of his blankets. As he wrapped it around the wolf, a loud growl reverberated in the air around him. Clearly struggling, the wolf attempted to stand.

            Glittering underneath the light like blood, the wolf’s maroon eyes pierced every one of Will’s movements.

            Will moved slowly, his heart rapid in his chest as sweat rolled down his skin.

            “Hello,” Will soothed, palms raised in a pacifying gesture.

            The wolf raised himself fully, his legs shaky and growls rumbling from his throat. Even through his weakness, his chest was raised, proud and strong.

            Will slowly stepped back, and the further away he got, the lower the wolf’s growls became. Something similar to intrigue in his eyes.

            The wolf’s growls now closer to a purr, they buried themselves in his throat. Will’s back grazed the door, and the wolf lowered himself to the ground, laying over the blanket that Will had so carefully placed over him previously. His eyes didn’t stray from Will as he opened the door of his shed again to leave.

            With the door closed behind him, Will allowed himself a moment to breathe, and he paused, looking down at the handles.

            For a second, he wondered how the wolf had even been able to enter the shed to begin with.

 

X

 

            The wolf’s time of recovery left Will’s mouth slightly agape.

            When he’d feed the wolf and treated his injuries (as the animal had so allowed him, nose held high and peering at him through the corner of his eyes), he saw the wound mend more day by day. The time that it took to completely become an old scar took a span of two weeks, and Will literally woke up one morning to see it completely closed up.

            During that time, the wolf made himself at home.

            One of those mornings, Will woke up the sound of his whining, restless dogs. He opened his eyes and startled at the sight of the wolf’s maroon gaze fixed on him, right next to his bed.

            Will stared, the sound of his heart a faraway beat at the back of his ears.

            His body sagged slightly when the wolf looked away, making himself busy as he took up one of the dog’s beds.

            Will didn’t expect the wolf to stay in their lives for a long time. He constantly expected to find him missing from one day to another, independent and devoid of others. Especially after the way he’d found him, alone and ready to die by himself.

            Yet, as the weeks passed, the wolf remained.

            When he was fully healed, Will grew in the habit of opening the front door for him just as he would for his dogs. The only exception between them was that he’d disappear for hours within end. By the time Will decided that it was time to cease repairing his boat motors and leave his shed, the wolf was sprinting in the distance, a different morsel between his teeth every time.

            The strangest thing was that they were never for himself.

            The first time the wolf dropped a rabbit at his feet, Will paused, questioning and staring down at blank eyes. The wolf stood elegantly still, ears perked upwards.

            “Okay,” Will drawled, leaning down to accept the offering. The wolf didn’t look away, and Will, again, couldn’t stop thinking about how intelligent he seemed.

            “Thank you,” Will said, and he tipped his head slightly.

            The largest of his gifts came in the shape of a large, dead buck.

            When Will opened the door to release his dogs, he stilled at the sight of the large animal over his porch. It had been dragged up the steps, and its head lay at Will’s feet while the rest of its body had been forced between the door and the stairs. Will’s dogs yapped and barked excitedly behind him, and Will startled out of his stupor rapidly enough to make himself into a sustainable barrier between them.

            It barricaded the way out of his porch, so Will knew he’d have to remove the dead animal before he allowed them to leave.

            Will groaned as he closed the door behind him, the whining of his dogs an ignored thought aided by the door.

            The buck was heavy, and Will huffed with exertion as he tugged it out of the way. Throughout the whole ordeal, he wondered how the hell his wolf had managed to drag it all the way to the porch. He was sure that the buck was at least twice his size.

            With these thoughts circling in his head, he noticed the culprit just out of the way in the distance. He sat comfortably on his hind legs, gazing at him, nose raised in the air. His maroon eyes analyzed every one of Will’s movements, alert and observing. There was an air of amusement in the way that he tilted his head to look at him, almost as if he enjoyed watching Will struggle to wrap his hands properly around his gift.

            “You could at least try to help,” Will sulked, his complaint complemented by the ache in his arms.

            That afternoon, while his dogs played in his front yard, Will moved the large buck to his shed. His hands were matted with fur and blood, and the sharp smell made Will frequently wrinkle his nose. His wolf followed him with languid steps, as if he had all the time in the world.

            He played guard as he remained by the door of his shed, observing as Will skinned the animal. Will watched from the corner of his eyes a few times to check if he was still there. Every time he did, he remained.

            Immersed by his task, Will missed when the light from within his shed lowered into late afternoon. He only registered it when the soft feel of fur rubbed over the back of his thighs, curling around him like a large cat.

            Will looked downwards, meeting the eyes of his wolf. They looked almost black in the drowning sunlight.

            “You’re right,” Will chuckled absentmindedly, looking back at his work. “It’s getting late, so I should call the dogs.”

            He brought into his home most of what he’d managed to skin and cut down. His dogs followed his steps in excitement.

            That night, Will woke up groggily to the sound of something moving underneath his sheets. Fur rubbed against his legs and made itself comfortable beside him. Will thought that it was one of his dogs at first, and he made an effort to whistle and tell them to get off, firmly attempting to get them off the bed. But the figure didn’t budge, and Will wrinkled his nose as it only cuddled closer, fur tickling Will’s nose.

            Will drifted off, not willing to make a fight out of it at three in the morning.

            He woke up sweaty the next day, and he found the delinquent still beside him. His wolf was asleep, but, when Will removed the blanket off them both, the wolf shifted, blinking red eyes up at him. Will tsked. His dogs were already awake, and they sniffed the edge of Will’s bed, irked that the wolf had been allowed onto it while they weren’t.

            “Yeah, yeah,” Will said as he walked to his kitchen, followed by his betrayed dogs. “It won’t happen again. I’ll push him off next time.”

            That night, the wolf climbed onto his bed again, and Will, again, attempted to push him off, to no avail. He didn’t budge, solid as stone. The third night, Will rose and ordered the wolf down, but all he did was stretch himself even more on the bed. Will refused to be forced to sleep with his dogs, and he complained the whole way as he finally turned the light off and pushed the wolf away after he’d reclaimed his space.

            The fifth night, Will attempted to push the wolf off the bed with his legs. In retaliation, the wolf lifted himself slightly and lay over them. He didn’t even budge again, Will’s attempts only child’s play to him. The eighth night, Will tempted the wolf with food, but the wolf only closed his eyes and rested his head over his front legs.

            Will finally gave up after the thirteenth night, and he slept with the wolf’s head pressed against his back.

 

X

 

            Will didn’t have a lack of dreams since he’d met his wolf.

            He’d dream of being in the forest, next to a river bank. In his hands he held a pistol, and, with the knowledge of the weapon, Will placed it on the ground, weary.

            There was a figure bathing in the river. Water caressed the man’s skin, and, as muscular arms raised up, towards his hair, gray strands were swept through strong, long fingers.

            Will moved, maybe in curiosity, but the movement alerted the man’s attention. Startled at how quickly the man turned towards him, the pistol was back in Will’s hand, morphing into his grip against his will.

            The man ran towards him, fangs bared in an inhuman snarl.

            “Would you kill me, Will?” a voice asked as he raised his pistol, almost all control snatched from his hands as fear watched the man start to change shape, skin rippling.

            “Tell me,” the voice demanded. “Would you kill me, Beta?”

            Sometimes the dreams were different. More serene and tender in nature.

            When Wil sat by the stream, the legs of his worn out jeans were raised, folded up to his knees. His feet were bare, and the touch of fishes brushing on his skin were like kisses on his legs. In front of him, the man leaned his head over Will’s thighs and smiled at him. His fingers reached for Will’s hand. Will looked into large eyes, at the long bridge of his nose. At his plump, curved lips. At his high cheekbones and his long lashes.

            Will smiled back, and the man spoke to him, his voice deep and accented. Even though he didn’t want to, the words they’d speak would leave him, like air. He’d forget the words, but the tune of the man’s voice remained, otherworldly, like music.

            Will asked the man for his name once, and the man said it to him, his silver hair glinting in the sunlight like gold, familiar maroon eyes twinkling.

            But, like everything else, that, too, faded away, and Will would wake, exasperated and somewhat melancholy.

            It was in the topic of names that he realized that he hadn’t once attempted to name his wolf.

            But the more he thought about it, the more he wanted to give the wolf one.

            “Do you have a name, buddy?” Will asked him one afternoon, and the wolf’s ears perked before turning to blink at him.

            “What about Mark?” Will asked, and the wolf approached him to nip at his ankles. Will laughed and jumped to avoid the sharp fangs.

            “Okay, okay,” he gave in, laughing. “I was just joking.”

            Will paused and looked out his window. “What do you think about Nigel?”

            The wolf cocked his head and looked at him with irked annoyance. Will chuckled softly and rubbed a hand over the wolf’s head, intertwining long strands of gray and brown fur between his fingers.

            “Okay,” Will said. “I’ll get back to you if I think of any really good ones.”

            So Will thought. A lot.

            Every time he had a new idea, he would bring it by his wolf, and, depending on his reaction, Will would reject the idea.

            Until he found Hannibal.

            “Hannibal,” Will said, turning away from his fishing lure to look back at his wolf, who sat calmly by the bed. “Do you like Hannibal?”

            The wolf raised his neck and cocked his head.

            “He was a Roman general,” Will informed. “A natural leader and maybe one of the greatest military commanders in history.”

            Will huffed.

            “Or so Wikipedia says,” he added after a small pause.

            The wolf rose and approached Will. He rubbed himself over Will’s pant leg and allowed himself to be petted. Will smiled down at him.

            “You’re very cute, Hannibal,” Will said, chuckling as he raised his hand to continue working on his lure.

            Will was distracted from his task with a loud knock on his door.

            He looked down at Hannibal with furrowed eyebrows. Not only was it extremely rare for others to come to his home in the middle of the day, it often meant bad news. New neighbors didn’t bother to travel twenty miles to attempt to say hello.

            His wolf watched Will walk up to his door and pick up the shotgun under his bed. Will glanced in his peripheral vision as the wolf stood, his nose raised to the air.

            Will opened the door cautiously, cracking just a few inches to look at the man outside. He opened it just a little wider to show that he had a weapon on him.

            The man wore glasses, his lips set in a perked up smile, and his hair blown haphazardly by the wind. By his side, a woman with red lips and blue eyes had her arms crossed over his chest. Both of their eyes shot immediately to the weapon in Will’s hands.

            “I see that we’re completely welcome,” the man said, tone playful as he looked back at Will’s very unwelcome eyes.

            “You’re not,” Will said, deadpan.

            Will’s dogs approached behind him, excited to see who was keeping Will occupied.

            “I’ll keep this short then,” the man said, eyeing the dogs and then the shotgun in Will’s hands again before looking back up. “I am Mason Verger.” The man waited, his hands smoothing over his coat. “We have reason to believe that one of my little toys strayed a little further than he should have in this direction.”

            Will’s fingers tightened over his weapon, realizing exactly in what direction this conversation was headed.

            It was the woman beside Mason that spoke up.

            “We are looking for a wolf,” she stated. “He is very likely injured. Or was at one point.”

            She, too, was eyeing the dogs, and Will forced himself to not turn and look for Hannibal. He had a strong feeling that the man in front of him was the reason why Hannibal had come to him injured. Almost near-dead.

            “I haven’t seen anything,” Will said roughly, his tone so scathing that he saw them both take a step back. But Mason was jubilant in Will’s harshness, his smile curling further upwards.

            “Are you sure about that?” Mason asked, and Will knew, with certainty, that the couple in front of him knew that he was lying.

            “Get out of here,” Will ordered, raising his shotgun. “Or I’ll make sure that you won’t invade my property again.”

            Mason raised his hands and stepped back, his smile not leaving his lips.

            “Okay, Margot, dear, let’s go before this man gets violent.”

            Margot walked down the stairs first and to their black car, her steps calm with a strong restraint from going faster. Mason was the one that stayed behind for just a few seconds longer.

            “Have a nice day, Mr. Graham,” the man said, and he walked rapidly down the stairs and towards his car. Even as the car left, Will could see that smile in his head, as if Mason shared a secret joke between them both.

            Very rapidly running through the surprise of the man knowing his name, Will knew without a doubt that they would return. Will closed the door and stared at the wood of his door for a few seconds. His dogs pawed at him, and Will turned to look for his wolf. He stood just outside of view from the door by his table, beside his lures. Will sighed and placed his shotgun in its original place as he walked towards him.

            The wolf was dignified, with his chest puffed out, as if the ordeal hadn’t fazed him. When Will lightly rested his hand over his head, Hannibal leaned into his touch.

            “I’m sorry that you ever had to meet someone like that,” Will said, looking down at him with a frown.

            His wolf closed his eyes and enjoyed Will’s touch. Will scratched him softly and then caressed the long, gray fur on his neck. He scratched just a while longer before he turned back to sit on his table and work on his lures.

 

X

 

            Will knew for sure that the man had returned when, at around three or four in the morning, he woke up to the sound of a car rolling down the dirt of his driveway. A few of his dogs roused and Winston raised his head to look at him. Will’s eyes were on the closed curtains; he could see the bright light of car headlights as they lit up his room.

            Will stood up warily, and he caught sight of his wolf. Hannibal stood still by the side of Will’s bed, ears lifted straight upwards as if he were listening to every sound. Will put on his robe and carefully grabbed a hold of his shotgun again. His heart resonated loudly in his chest and his senses spiked.    

            Goosebumps raised the hair on his arms, and, he knew, without a reasonable doubt, that Mason was not a man that would easily allow a prized pet such as Hannibal to be let go easily.

            Will walked closer to the door, and was completely still. His dogs shifted as they woke. Hannibal wasn’t agitated, only extremely alert, and that rose the hairs on Will’s arms.

            Will heard the long creak of the stairs outside as someone stepped onto his porch. And another one. And another one.

            At least three people were currently outside his porch, very likely armed.

            And Mason didn’t seem like the type of man that made things easy.

            With a sharp snap, very likely meant to wake him up, the door was forced open. Will’s dogs went crazy, barking and snarling with their haunches raised. Hannibal himself bared his teeth, but Will’s aim was unwavering as he aimed his weapon directly at the man in the middle, who was shocked to see Will awake.

            That shock quickly became amusement.

            “I shouldn’t have underestimated you, Mr. Graham,” Mason said, the frame of his glasses shining from the sliver of moonlight outside. His beady eyes calmly swept over Will’s room and his dogs, but they very notably stopped at the sight of the wolf standing next to Will. Hannibal’s ears were still raised, and his haunches were stiff as he bared sharp teeth at the man looking at him as if he were a prize.

            The corner of Mason’s lips lifted.

            And then his eyes. Towards Will.

            “I’m afraid that you are outnumbered, Mr. Graham. Are you sure you don’t want to put your weapon down?”

            Will’s hold on his shotgun only tightened. His jaw clenched as he gritted his teeth.

            “I’m afraid not,” Will said, his voice indicating that he was the very opposite of that. “Either you get the fuck out of my house or I’ll shoot your head off.”

            Mason cringed exaggeratedly, leaning backwards. The men beside Mason were still, look at Mason for direction.

            “Mr. Graham,” Mason started, straightening up to look at Will through the thick lenses of his glasses. “Do you know exactly what you’re keeping in your house?”

            Will didn’t answer, and his hold on his shotgun only tightened. Mason didn’t seem afraid.

            “You are holding a monster,” Mason said, smiling. “A very valuable monster that I want back.”

            “You must not want him back too much,” Will reiterated, scowling. “If you were so willing to let him die all those months ago.

            “I knew that he would live,” Mason said, and, beside Will, Hannibal growled, a low deep sound that made the hair of Will’s arms stand. Mason lifted his arms, the palm of his hands facing towards Will.

            “He is not animal or human,” Mason said, and Will scoffed in disbelief. “He is the story of myths. Of the stories that your mother used to tell you at night to scare you.”

            Mason eyed the figure near Will’s legs.

            “He is a monster,” Mason smiled.

            Before Will could even think about responding back, Hannibal lunged straight towards Mason, a snarl ripping through his throat. The men beside Mason didn’t move fast enough to stop the wolf from attacking him and tackling him to the floor. They turned as quickly as they could to attempt to pull the large animal away from the man.

            Mason shrieked, the sound piercing as Will swung the butt of his shotgun to hit the back of the neck of the man closest to him. The other turned just as he fell unconscious to the ground.

            Will moved rapidly, avoiding the man’s fist as he dropped the gun. From his peripheral, he saw Mason struggle for his life as he attempted to avoid Hannibal’s sharp teeth.

            Will himself fought for his life as the man in front of him swung a blade in an attempt to stab him. The man succeeded in sinking the knife into Will’s side, and, even through the striking pain, Will continued to search for an opening. Will tackled the man when he saw it, and the knife flew from the man’s grip.

            Will barely noticed when Mason’s cries stopped and when new ones started. Will’s fists incessantly pummeled the face of the man that he straddled. Even though his own fists were red with blood, he didn’t stop until the man beneath him was completely still.

            By then, Will was breathing hard, and he raised his hand to sweep his bangs back, away from his eyes. His fingers were shaking. He rose unsteadily, his hand stiff and dripping blood. As he did so, his eyes swept over to find Hannibal’s.

            The wolf looked at him without wavering, blood dripping from his muzzle. Will caught sight of the meat that had become of Mason and the other man, and he swallowed to repress the urge to hurl.

            Will’s dogs approached worryingly after the whole commotion, whining as Will’s weakened and sank to the floor. Will’s vision went hazy as relief and horror sunk in, and he grimaced. His hand reached to his side, where blood soaked through his shirt.

            “Fuck,” Will laughed without humor. He faced upwards, towards his bed, to see if he could spot his phone from where he sat. However, he couldn’t focus his vision on one thing, and his breathing began to quicken as his lungs fought to claim air.

            “Fuck,” Will said again, just for good measure. He glanced at Hannibal, and he brushed away Winston’s muzzle when he attempted to smell his bloodied hands.

            Hannibal approached him through confident steps, softly bumping Winston away so that Will could touch him instead. Will didn’t look away from the large furry figure. His fur was dark, but it was even darker still with blood dripping from his teeth and on the tips of his fur. He was a beautiful animal even like this. Beautiful and dangerous.

            And so Will hesitantly, softly, began to run his fingers through the fur over Hannibal’s head, even as his dogs whined next to him, demanding equal attention.

            And it was just like that that the figure underneath his touch began to change.

            As fur became silky strands of brown and gray locks, Will didn’t flinch, only stared down at familiar dark eyes, a sharp nose and equally sharp cheekbones. Will continued to run tender fingers over silky hair even as Hannibal turned to smell Will’s wrist and close his eyes. His long lashes created devilish shadows that ghosted over plump lips.

            Even if Will’s motions didn’t betray his rapidly beating heart, Will could tell that Hannibal recognized his nervousness.

            There was reverence in the naked man’s movements as he grabbed a hold of the hand caressing him—as he brought it to his lips to leave a soft, lingering kiss, wet with blood.

            In the night, through the open door, the howls of wolves raised in the distance.

            “Hello, Will,” the man said, the smile clear in his voice.

            “I’ve been waiting a long time for you, my beta.”

 

 


End file.
